Sharing In Thirteen
by Ellana-san
Summary: Utter crack in which Fulvia and Effie are both in 13 at the same time. Plutarch and Haymitch share a room, Fulvia and Effie share a room and both couple are sneaking around, trying to hide their relationship from the other. Utter crack, did I say? Hayffie. Heavensdew.


_Okay, so this story was born from one of the deranged twitter discussions I had with Allonsysilvertongue about what would happen if Fulvia and Effie had both been in Thirteen at the same time._

 _It appears clear to both of us that Fulvia and Plutarch were a thing (maybe it's just to us but you know, we all have our crazy ships) in MJ and from there on we started to have an even more deranged discussion about how funny it would be to have the two couples there at the same time, sneaking around each other and trying to hide their relationship from their respective roommate and thus the Thirteen Rom-Com AU was born._

 _Do I have to mention that this is completely crack?_

 _Also, this has currently only one story but I might add others eventually._

 _ **Sharing In Thirteen**_

 _ **The White Bra Conundrum**_

"I hate this." Plutarch sighed, making no move to get out of bed.

Fulvia set about gathering her clothes, regularly checking the fluorescent numbers indicating time on the wall – time was important in Thirteen, certainly never to be wasted, and everything had to be strictly kept on schedule even, as unappealing as it sounded, secret sex meetings.

"It spices things up." she said, trying to see the bright side and slipping her underwear on at the same time.

"Do we need spicing?" Plutarch frowned.

"Are you sure Haymitch won't come back yet?" she deflected.

She and Plutarch had been having an affair for almost as long as she had taken the job as his assistant – four years of sneaking around and hiding it from the press and general public – so, yes, their sex life _needed_ spicing up, but there were things that, in her opinion, men didn't need to hear so she kept her thoughts to herself.

"He said he wanted to talk to Beetee." he said. "He's probably trying to convince him to override the security protocol to find some liquor."

Fulvia wasn't unsympathetic to Haymitch's problems but, at the same time, she had troubles understanding how he could have let himself go so low – and the fact that he had publicly criticized her idea to feed Katniss lines in a controlled shooting studio setting for the propos wasn't helping her opinion of him.

"Better Beetee than me." Plutarch chuckled. "Sharing rooms is a moronic rule."

They had tried to get a compartment together but they had been told in no uncertain terms that only married people could share as to maintain a proper level or order. Stupid rule if Fulvia ever heard one.

"It's not so bad." she countered.

"For you maybe, my sweet." he sighed. "You don't have to share with a slob."

Haymitch did have a tendency to leave a mess behind him, she mused, as she put on her grey jumpsuit. Plutarch who was a very neat man – bordering on obsessive in her opinion – must have been going crazy picking up after him. She didn't have that problem. Sharing a room with Effie Trinket was very much like being back in university, it included long late at night chatting and a brand new crazy friend. Fulvia hadn't known the other Capitol woman before coming to Thirteen and she had feared they wouldn't get along well – mainly because Fulvia had been committed to the rebels' cause since she was nineteen and Effie had been screaming outrage about her _abduction_ for days – but they had found a common ground somewhere. Effie, Fulvia was starting to find out, was much more than a pretty face despite her sometimes clueless behavior.

The only problem with having a roommate was that she couldn't sleep with Plutarch – in both meanings of the term – as often as she wanted to even though she was secretly enjoying the sneaking around. It made her feel young and it added a little touch of fun to those depressing war times.

Or at least, it did, until her eyes spotted a white lacy bra in a corner.

"What is that?" she asked, picking up the piece of lingerie and wriggling it in front of Plutarch's face. "This isn't mine. Did you have another woman here?" She narrowed her eyes at him, an angry flush reddening her skin to the point she knew the silver tattoos on her cheeks must have been even more pronounced. "I swear, Plutarch, if you have been cheating on me…"

"I don't know where that came from!" Plutarch denied defensively. "Are you sure it's not yours?"

"Certain." She never wore white lingerie, she didn't even _own_ white lingerie. "And it certainly isn't Haymitch's or does he like wearing women's underwear?"

Her sarcasm flew high over Plutarch's head. He was staring at the bra with a puzzled expression. "That's weird. Maybe there was a mistake with the laundry?"

"The laundry." she hissed. "Is that the excuse you're going with? _The laundry?_ And what's the laundry's name I wonder?"

"Fulvia." he said in a disapproving tone. "You know I love you."

She did.

She also knew love didn't always go hand in hand with being faithful.

"Does Haymitch have a girlfriend?" she frowned.

He almost choked on his laughter. "Aside from his right hand?" He rolled his eyes. "Trust me, there was a mistake with the laundry."

She wasn't in the very least convinced.

"Well I'm keeping it hostage." she huffed. "Tell _Laundry_ if she wants it back, she will have to ask _me_."

"Fulvia…" he sighed.

She made very sure to slam the door behind her.

She stopped by her room to drop off the offensive piece of lingerie on her way to Command and spent the rest of the day glaring at Plutarch each time he so much as brushed a finger against her shoulder to get her attention. The war was more pressing than those personal matters though so she pushed her hurt feelings aside and focused on her job. When she stumbled back to her compartment, late at night, completely exhausted, it was only to find Effie already asleep just as tired as she was.

It wasn't until the next morning that she remembered the white bra conundrum. However, she couldn't find it where she had left it.

"I left a bra here, did you move it?" she asked Effie.

The escort was busy wrapping a piece of cloth around her hair to conceal it from view. Never mind what Fulvia had to say, Effie wouldn't even try to conform to the strict uniform rule – and when she saw her own reflection in the mirror, she truly didn't blame her. Those jumpsuits did nothing for a woman's figure.

"Oh, sorry, was it yours?" Effie frowned. "I thought it was one of mine. It's hard to keep track in this place. Everything is so standard. It's in the dresser's drawer."

Curious, Fulvia peeked in said dresser to find a few white bras. Some were plain, some had been customized and others had clearly been stolen here and there given that they were the lacy kind Thirteen would never officially approve of.

She knew without having to investigate that she wouldn't find another collection like this one in all Thirteen. Which meant…

"Did you have sex with Plutarch?" she asked outward, turning back to look at her with a frown.

What would be the odds of finding another women in that District with lacy bras that perfectly matched the one she had found?

"What?" Effie squealed. "Are you out of your mind? Certainly not!"

Fulvia narrowed her eyes. "Are you _sure?_ "

"I think I would have noticed, yes." the escort answered disdainfully. She made a face. "Besides, he is very much _not_ my type."

Fulvia relaxed slightly but her jealousy suddenly morphed into curiosity. "Did you sleep with Haymitch?"

"Are you going to list all the available men in the District?" Effie retorted, eyebrows lifted high, right before suspicion flashed in her blue eyes. "Are _you_ interested in Haymitch?"

" _Ew_ , no!" Fulvia cringed.

"Well, why the odd questions?" Effie huffed, irritated.

"Oh, never mind…" she sighed. "I suppose it _was_ a mistake with laundry."

And now she would have to apologize to Plutarch. Although she could think of very fun ways to make it up to him…

"I would advise against making a move on Haymitch." Effie said casually. "He hates Capitol women, you know. Even rebel ones. In fact… He hates women _period_."

The comment was thrown over her shoulder as Effie passed her wrist under the scanner to get her daily schedule.

"I will… keep it in mind." Fulvia promise, not knowing what else to answer.

Still… She started to wonder if it _was_ a laundry mistake after all or if Effie was simply a very skilled liar.

However, the escort switched subject to Katniss and the next propos and deftly avoided any mention of her other victor.

It didn't stop Fulvia from being suspicious.


End file.
